


Trouble Though He May Be

by phoebesmum



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Family, Ficlet, Flash Fic, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoebesmum/pseuds/phoebesmum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does he really have to take her out to the damn ball game every time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble Though He May Be

**Author's Note:**

> Written April 2007; prompt: 'Ballgame'.

Casey's asleep.

Lisa sighs and rolls her eyes, but then catches herself guiltily, remembering that she did the exact same thing last month when it was Casey's turn to choose their Big Evening Out. It's a pity, since they can't afford to go out even as often as they do (which is almost never at all), that they can't find something they both enjoy, but marriage is about compromise. Although god knows whether 'marriage' is even on the cards; it doesn't seem to have occurred to Casey, and she's dropped enough hints to sink a small battleship, the ball's in his court now.

She wrinkles her nose. Not just a mixed metaphor, but a sporting one at that. Maybe Casey's sports obsession is finally starting to rub off on her. And it might be a good thing if it did, since life with Casey is pretty much going to involve eating, drinking and breathing sports, day in, day out, forever onward. May as well get used to it now.

Except, does he _always_ have to take her out to the damn ball game, every single time? The last couple of months it's been baseball, which Lisa's never followed, doesn't understand, and never wants to, and if it's not baseball it's football, or basketball, or hockey, or soccer … although, truthfully, Lisa doesn't mind soccer so much; it has its compensations in the form of tight, skimpy shorts and yards of lean, muscular, tanned leg. Same goes for tennis. But still. Sports. Always sports. And, yes, okay, it's his passion and, if he gets his way (and he will, he's already got his foot on the first rung of the ladder) it'll be his livelihood too, but, dear god, doesn't he know there's more to life? _She_, at least, shows some consideration when it comes to her time to choose. She doesn't drag him to the ballet, or to poetry readings – she'd suggested it just the once but, when she'd seen the whites of his eyes, she'd had mercy on him and they'd gone dancing instead. Not that Casey's much of a dancer, but at least he tries. She takes him to clubs, they go look at art. A movie's generally a safe compromise – even sports movies have the compensation of hot actors – and the theatre's usually a safe choice, as long as it's nothing too modern. And also, apparently, not anything with showtunes. You'd think if Brando could stand it it'd be good enough for Casey, but here he is. Asleep, head tipped back, mouth slightly open, oblivious to guys and to dolls alike.

If he starts to snore, she'll kick him.

So, okay. Maybe they don't have many interests in common. But they love one another. That should be enough. And Casey has plenty to recommend him: he's a decent guy – a little thoughtless sometimes, maybe, but what man isn't? Generally he's kind; he remembers birthdays and anniversaries, or at least he does if he's reminded. He's _very_ good-looking. He's always treated Lisa well. And he's good in bed, now that they've established a few basic principles: the double-barrelled _just because you've started doesn't mean I'm ready/just because you've finished doesn't mean it's over_ rule, for a start, and _yes, they bounce, but they are not a trampoline_, and _if I say 'Ouch!' that means it hurts, please stop_. All of that puts him so far ahead of the rest of the field, the runners-up aren't even in sight …

… oh, _damn_. Another sports metaphor!

She heaves another sigh, and settles back to enjoy the rest of the show. Casey's head's dropped onto her shoulder, and she slides an arm around him, threads her fingers through his hair; amuses herself, as she often does in quiet moments, in wondering what their kids might look like. His brains, her looks, or vice versa? Not that it matters much, that's win/win. Girls, or boys, or one of each? Just her luck if she has a troop of boys, all as sports-mad as their father, and spends the rest of her life freezing her butt off at Little League, picking up gym equipment and mopping mud off the floor. So, maybe just the _one_ child. At least to begin with.

_Anything else would be kind of ambitious_, she thinks to herself, and laughs quietly.

On the stage, Miss Adelaide and Sister Sarah are making their own wedding plans: _Marry the man today_, they tell one another, _and change his ways tomorrow!_ Lisa laughs again. How … how _fifties!_ She tightens her arm, hugging Casey close, and he comes muzzily awake.

"'sover?" he asks hopefully.

"Almost," she tells him, and turns her head to brush a kiss against his cheek. _Change his ways_. As if! She adores Casey just exactly the way he is, sports and mud and sweat and beer and all.

She knows she always will.

***


End file.
